


Brownies and Pie

by Gamebird



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamebird/pseuds/Gamebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in The Wall. Peter passes time one day by making brownies for himself, but he doesn't want to eat the entire pan by himself. It occurs to him that he might try sharing, but Sylar's never been very good at that. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brownies and Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: This was a one-shot exchange for More Between Us written with means2bhuman. She wrote Sylar's part; I wrote Peter's. It's perfectly good as a stand-alone.

Peter examined the box for directions, but he didn't read them too closely. He'd made these before and they were always good. They were awesome, in fact – food of the gods. He had all the ingredients, so in a very short while, he slipped the dish into the preheated oven and crouched in front of it, looking in. There wasn't much to see, really, but he had nothing else to do. It wasn't like he was going to leave, anyway, and risk it burning.

The idea of warm, rich, gooey brownies with that flaky, crumbly thin top layer filled his mind and made him salivate. They were perfection when hot, not so good when cold. He wasn't much of a fan of them after they cooled off and got sort of stiff and crunchy, dried out and unpleasant to eat. But hot! He'd have a whole pan of them!

_Hm, an entire pan. That's a lot. I think if I ate an entire pan, I'd be sick. Maybe I should just eat half. Even half will be a carb and calorie overload. And probably make me hyper. But whatever. I'll just eat half. And … I don't really want the rest. Maybe I could just throw it out? It's not like there's a big shortage of brownie mixes around here. I could toss the rest and make new any time I wanted them. Huh, you know, I should have just divided the recipe. Hm. Maybe next time._

He stared in as the mix bubbled very slowly, like chocolate magma. _I_ _should_ _have_ _put_ _nuts_ _in_ _it._ A few more seconds passed and he shifted his weight to avoid his calves getting sore. _I_ _don_ _'_ _t_ _really_ _like_ _the_ _idea_ _of_ _throwing_ _out_ _half_ _the_ _dish._ _That_ _'_ _s_ _kind_ _of_ _wasteful._ _Even_ _…_ _even_ _if_ _we_ _'_ _re_ _here,_ _where_ _waste_ _doesn't_ _really_ _matter,_ _I'd_ _still_ _rather_ _not_ _put_ _it_ _in_ _the_ _trash._ _… '_ _We_ _'_ _._ _Hm._ He took in a deep breath and let it out, leaning forward slightly, peering even more intently inside the oven.

Later …

 _I_ _feel_ _like_ _an_ _idiot._ _I_ _'_ _m_ _sure_ _he_ _'_ _s_ _going_ _to_ _take_ _this_ _the_ _wrong_ _way._ _I_ _can_ _'_ _t_ _imagine_ _how_ _to_ _explain_ _this._ Peter shook his head, wishing he could shake away the nagging thoughts. He raised one hand, the other holding the wrapped pan of brownies, and knocked on Sylar's door.

XXX

Sylar frowned and looked up from his watches at the knock on his door. _What_ _on-?_ _What_ _'_ _s_ _he_ _done_ _now?_ He set down his precision tools and the delicate pieces he was working on and stood, staring at the door.

Blinking he shuffled slowly over to the door, peering through the peep-hole to see an antsy-looking Peter. _Who_ _else?_ He told himself firmly with a shake of his head, smoothing out his expression somewhat, but he couldn't figure what the man needed unless Peter had forgotten how to tie his shoes again. Or Sylar had somehow stepped on one of those goddamn conversation bear-traps and Peter was just now coming to deal him some death.

He opened the door and looked down the few inches into Peter's face. Initially he didn't see the pan the other man held, but the foil caught his eye quickly enough and his eyes bugged out as he caught the smell of brownies.

 _Oh_ _no_ _fucking_ _way_ _in_ _hell._ _No_ _way._ _Just_ _no._ Shocked and horrified brown eyes flashed up to Peter's, who now looked confused. Sylar snarled, pulling back into his apartment with a jerk and slamming the door shut in Peter's face, locking it for good measure.

 _YOU_ _MAY_ _HAVE_ _MY_ _MEMORIES,_ _YOU_ _SON_ _OF_ _A_ _BITCH,_ _BUT_ _I_ _LEARN_ _FROM_ _MY_ _MISTAKES,_ he thought viciously, thudding his forehead to the bloody hand print of his door, his hands fists against the wood, ignoring Peter's fuss from outside.

The Company's reach could only extend so far. First a beautiful, blonde, rather nubile angel to tempt him into sin and murder. Said angel was the daughter of the Company's sugar daddy, both of them agents. Now, he got the second, almost throw-away son of the Company's directors. Peter Petrelli, the good-looking, moralistic-if-simple hero who owned Sylar's most well-guarded memories and was now using them for some unknown Petrelli reason.

The Nathan inside him, piped up to say that Peter might just be trying to get him high with an insanely ironic joke of "Special Brownies".

_FIRST PIE, NOW BROWNIES? DO YOU THINK I'M A FOOL?_


End file.
